


Throbb Christmas

by trolalo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, One Shot, throbb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trolalo/pseuds/trolalo
Summary: So here’s Theon three days before Christmas, and this is the night he first meets Robb Stark.





	

Theon had to do a lot of questionable things in his life, in order to get by. When he was a kid, he used to pick pockets, just to put food on the table. He was pretty damn good at it too. And he was pretty fast on his feet, so he never really worried about getting caught. It didn’t hurt that he had the face of an angel in those days as well, all freckles and innocence. No one suspected him at first glance.

Of course, as he got older, and his features began to lose some of the softness of childhood, things got harder. Teenagers tend to have a shifty look about them anyway, prone to causing trouble at that age, so the shopkeepers kept a closer eye on them to begin with. Especially in Winter Town. Not only were the kids in that area needier than most, but they were a lot shiftier too, forced to grow up too fast and marked by the jaded edge in their eyes.

Unfortunately for Theon, that meant there were a few awkward years when he was too old to pass unnoticed as a shoplifter or pickpocket, but not yet big enough to start straight-out mugging people.

Some of his friends started doing odd jobs for the local crime-bosses, working as snitches or lookouts, or doing deliveries for drug-dealers… but there was no way Theon was going to get involved with  _that_. He knew all too well where that was likely to end up, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Stealing cars brought in some good cash every now and then, but it wasn’t a regular income. Most people knew better than to leave their crap unprotected anyway.

So he tried to find other jobs, legit jobs even – washing dishes, delivering pizzas – but in the end, minimum wage really didn’t cut it either. It wasn’t long before he found himself leading men down dark alleyways, selling his “personal services” for money.

In the beginning, that awkward in-between phase his body was going through came in handy. At sixteen, he was still just soft enough to be “pretty,” and most men were fine with just looking at him, watching him while he got off for twenty bucks a pop. But Theon knew that if he wanted to start making the big bucks, he was going to have to be more… hands on.

So here’s Theon three days before Christmas, he’s about to give his first blowjob… and this is the night he first meets Robb Stark.

Of course, he doesn’t know its Robb Stark at the time – wouldn’t have even known who the hell Robb Stark  _was_. All he knows is that some rich asshole has just thrown up all over him.

It happens like this – He’s hanging out with Satin, Olyvar, Daeron and a couple of other working boys, down the street from a couple of bars and a strip-joint, when Stark stumbles outside with one of his friends. Theon’s just picking up his first typical john for the night, but he always keeps a wary eye on his surroundings, so he doesn’t miss it when Stark’s dark-haired friend stumbles over to one of the other boys on the corner.

“Umber?” Stark exclaims, jaw hanging open as his friend heads towards a dark alley with the other boy.

“Why don’t you head back to the club, Robb? I’ll come get you when I’m done. Fifteen – twenty minutes tops,” Theon hears the guy slur in response, and the look of utter bewilderment on  _Robb’s_  face is priceless. Theon huffs chuckle as he negotiates a price with his own john.

Unfortunately, Stark is so wasted, he starts walking in the complete opposite direction of the club, and right towards Theon. It’s like the boy doesn’t even see them in his path. But Theon sees  _him_  coming, weaving a path of such drunken determination, all over the sidewalk, that Theon has no other choice  _but_  to catch him, when he lurches right into the middle of Theon’s negotiations.

And that’s when Stark hurls on him.

“Shit,” the john backs away. “Maybe next time, kid,” he says, walking off. Just like that.

“Great,” Theon mutters, pulling off his worn and now-ruined hoodie and dumping it in a nearby trashbin. Not only has he lost the john, but he smells so strongly of spew, he probably won’t be able to pick up anyone else tonight either.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”  _Robb_  slurs, finally clueing in to the situation.

Theon narrows his eyes at the boy. He’s probably so drunk, Theon could easily get away with picking the boy’s pocket. He probably won’t even notice, let alone remember what Theon looks like, and it would go a long way to covering Theon’s losses for the night, if the guy’s as rich as he thinks.

But just as Theon finishes with that thought, the guy pulls out his wallet anyway, shoving a bunch of twenties in Theon’s direction.

“What the hell is this?” Theon huffs, completely baffled.

“Just take it, man. Buy a new jacket with it or something,” the boy says, pushing the money at him again. Theon sees something like a hundred dollars there, maybe more. It’s a whole lot of cash –  _way_  more than his hoodie cost – and Theon  _should_  just take it and go, but he finds himself bristling, backing away.

“I don’t need your charity,” Theon snaps. Sure, he was about to steal the guy’s wallet, but Theon still considers that  _earning_  his pay, at least.

“Come on, man, don’t be like that. I’m trying to make things right here,” the boy says, and there’s something genuine in the boy’s eyes when he says it, something earnest, that just  _gets_  to Theon.

It doesn’t hurt that the guy’s kind of good-looking too. And the whole red curls, big blue-eyed thing.

“Okay, look, come with me,” Theon mutters, grabbing the boy’s hand and pulling him down the nearest alley.

“Wha..? Where are we going?” the boy half slurs, half laughs, stumbling along after him in the dark. Theon shoves him up against the wall and goes to his knees.

The first thing Theon thinks is that the boy smells like…  _money_  – clean, free of that layer of sweat that inevitably comes with the working-class types Theon’s used to. And is that… cologne? Even though the puke smell hasn’t really left his nostrils, and the alley doesn’t smell so great either, Theon can still tell that the guy smells good _._

“Oh… Oh  _wow_ …” the boy moans when Theon finally grips his cock, gets his lips on him.

Theon doesn’t have a lot of experience when it comes to blow jobs, definitely not with  _giving_  them, but he tries to remember the kind of things he likes when he’s on the receiving end, and puts that to use.

The first thing he tries is using his hand as well as his mouth. The boy’s kind of big, and Theon can’t fit him all the way in his mouth without gagging, so he closes his hand around what he can’t suck down and pumps it in time with the bobbing of his lips.

“Oh  _yeah_ …” the boy hisses in approval, running his hand through Theon’s hair, so Theon guesses he must be doing something right. Once he finally settles into some kind of rhythm, he even manages to add a little twist with his hand, swiping his tongue over the head whenever he gets to the end of the boy’s cock.

The boy nearly falls over at that, and Theon has to stop to push him up against the wall again. He starts to wonder if he’s really doing that good of a job, or if the guy’s just too wasted to tell the difference. Then again, Theon’s surprised the boy can even get it up at all. Maybe upheaving the contents of his stomach helped with that a little.

In any case, it isn’t long before the boy’s hand is in Theon’s hair again, and he’s fucking Theon’s mouth, babbling encouragement and other nonsense things. Theon thinks he even hears a name in there somewhere. Maybe two. But that’s none of his business. His business is the messy end of a blowjob, and the few hundred dollars he’ll feel a lot less guilty about pocketing afterwards.

When the boy comes, Theon doesn’t swallow, regardless of how clean the boy tastes. Theon’s not an idiot. He knows he has to be as safe about this as possible. Hawking it out on the ground, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, making a mental note to carry a bottle of mouthwash around with him from now on.

“Wow,” the boy breathes, sluggishly zipping up his fly. “I didn’t expect that to be so…” he trails off, shaking his head with amazed disbelief.

“Yeah, it was good for me too,” Theon deadpans, turning to leave.

“Hey, wait,” the boy reaches out for his arm, stopping him. “I’m going to the Riverlands for Christmas tomorrow, but… maybe I’ll see you when I get back?” he asks. Like he’s asking some girl on a dinner-date or something. Huh. Maybe Theon really  _did_  do a good job.

“Whatever,” Theon shrugs his arm free. “I’ll be here.” Always. He sure isn’t going anywhere else.

But he isn’t going to hold his breath either. The guy’s so drunk, he probably won’t even remember this in the morning.

It’s a cold walk home through Winter Town. Theon’s going to have to get a new hoodie first thing tomorrow.


End file.
